Page 12 of Feral Gods
"Don't mistake Zephyr's academic candor for kindness," Thane warns, pushing away from the doorway. "We may not be dark elves anymore, but we're certainly not human sympathizers."
Yet even as he speaks, I note the way his gaze lingers on Kaia with something more complex than mere disdain. The girl has affected us all, it seems, in ways that defy straightforward categorization.
"I should continue my patrol," Thane announces abruptly, as if uncomfortable with his own observations. "The storm has intensified. It will provide some cover against immediate attack, but we shouldn't grow complacent."
After he departs, Kaia turns back to me, her expression thoughtful. "He doesn't like me much, does he?"
"Thane's antipathy is not personal," I assure her. "He harbors particular resentment toward humans who collaborated withdark elves during our imprisonment. The fact that you were a slave rather than a willing servant makes little difference to his broader prejudice."
"And you?" she asks directly. "Do you share his prejudice?"
The question deserves honest consideration. I have always prided myself on intellectual objectivity, on evaluating each situation based on observable evidence rather than emotional bias. Yet I cannot deny that centuries of imprisonment have left their mark on my psyche, coloring my perceptions in ways I may not fully recognize.
"I try to judge individuals on their own merits," I finally answer. "Thus far, you have demonstrated intelligence, adaptability, and a commendable resilience. These qualities earn my respect, regardless of your species."
She studies me intently, as if measuring the sincerity of my words. "And Ravik? Where does he stand on the question of human worth?"
An intriguing query, particularly given the undercurrents I've observed between them. "Ravik is... complicated. More than any of us, he embodies the contradiction of our existence—the dark elf mind housed within the gargoyle form. His feelings toward humans are similarly contradictory."
"That's not really an answer," she points out.
"No," I acknowledge with a small smile. "It isn't. Perhaps because Ravik himself doesn't know the answer where you're concerned."
A faint flush colors her cheeks at this observation, confirming my suspicion that the connection between them runs deeper than either might care to admit. Another fascinating development to monitor.
"Rest now," I suggest, gathering my scrolls. "Tomorrow will bring new challenges, and you'll need your strength."
As I rise to leave, Kaia's voice stops me. "Zephyr? Thank you. For the knowledge. For treating me as someone capable of understanding."
The simple gratitude strikes a chord I had thought long silenced by centuries of stone sleep. I incline my head in acknowledgment, not quite trusting my voice in that moment.
As I exit the inner sanctum, I find Ravik waiting in the shadows of the main hall, his expression unreadable. "Well?" he demands. "What have you learned?"
"Many things," I reply carefully. "The temple's defenses can be restored with careful application of magical energy. The political landscape of Protheka has evolved in predictable ways during our imprisonment. And our guest possesses a remarkable mind for one with no formal education."
His eyes narrow at this last observation. "You grow attached to her."
"I find her intellectually stimulating," I correct him. "A rare quality in any species."
"She is a means to an end, Zephyr. A curiosity that broke our curse, nothing more."
Even as he makes this declaration, I note the way his gaze drifts toward the inner sanctum, lingering on the doorway behind which Kaia rests. His words contradict his actions—a dissonance I find most revealing.
"Of course," I agree neutrally.
Ravik growls softly, clearly detecting my skepticism, but chooses not to pursue the matter. "Continue your research. Identify any weaknesses in our defenses and correct them. I want this sanctuary impregnable by dawn."
As he stalks away, wings mantled imposingly behind him, I allow myself a moment of quiet amusement. For all his fearsome power and tactical brilliance, Ravik remains remarkably blind to certain truths—particularly those concerning his own emotions.
I return to the archives, my mind cataloguing the day's discoveries. The temple's magical architecture. The political evolution of Protheka. The complex relationship developing between three gargoyles and one remarkable human woman.
Of all these mysteries, it is the last that most intrigues my scholarly mind. How strange that after centuries of imprisonment, our salvation should come in the form of a fragile human slave. How strange still that her presence should awaken within us feelings we had thought long turned to stone.
I'm beginning to suspect that some forms of knowledge—particularly those concerning the heart—may prove more valuable than all the ancient texts in my carefully curated collection.
A hypothesis worth testing, as we face whatever challenges tomorrow brings.
5
